


the world fallen under this falling

by quantumducky



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU: episode 160 was only five minutes long and nothing bad happened, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Snowed In, no plot only fluff.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: “You don’t get snow like this in London.”Just 2k of softness on a winter morning.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 14
Kudos: 188





	the world fallen under this falling

**Author's Note:**

> for doe in the magnus writers discord valentines exchange! enjoy the fluff <3
> 
> title is a line borrowed from the poem "snow day" by billy collins

Martin wakes up late in the morning and warm in bed, with Jon lying halfway on top of him, and smiles at the ceiling. Despite how long they’ve been here, he’s still getting used to this- it only took a week or so to stop automatically waking up at the same time he normally would for work, but he’s not sure if it will ever stop surprising him when he remembers that this is really happening, that it’s something either of them is  _ allowed _ to do.

It’s been getting colder out lately, and Martin decides there’s no harm in staying in bed a little longer, cuddled together under the blankets. He tucks his face into Jon's shoulder and closes his eyes against the light filtering in through the curtains. Jon stirs and mumbles something he can't make out. So much for going back to sleep.

"What was that? I can't hear you when you've got a mouthful of my shirt," Martin teases. Jon turns his head a bit to fix the problem.

"Said it's snowing," he repeats. The curtains are closed, and he has yet to open his eyes. It's possible he checked the weather forecast last night, but Martin knows that isn't it.

"Oh." He decides to ignore the implications, for now, and slips out of bed against Jon's complaints to have a look. When he pulls back the curtain, all he sees outside is white.  _ "Oh." _

Jon gives him a disgruntled look, having immediately curled up in the warm space Martin left and tucked the edges of the blankets in under himself to preserve the heat. "Yes. Are you coming back to bed?"

Martin stares out the window for a few more seconds, half transfixed, before pulling himself away. He leaves the curtains open. "If you insist," he teases, and climbs back into bed to sit. Jon relinquishes the tight seal of the blankets only long enough to replace it with his body.

Half asleep, Jon only cares about one thing, which is being as cozy as possible for as long as possible until forces beyond his control require him to get out of bed. Even so- even though he clearly wants nothing more than to hide from the light and pretend it’s still nighttime- he keeps lifting his head from where it’s buried in his pillow and peeking over at the window. Martin understands the feeling.

“You don’t get snow like this in London.”

Jon hums and shakes his head in agreement. For one thing, it wouldn’t be so  _ clean _ after hitting the ground.

Martin looks over at the window again and tries to judge the depth of what’s already piled up on the ground. “This might be the most I’ve ever seen at once, actually. I would’ve  _ loved _ something like this when I was a kid, you know? I used to wish for a blizzard to let me stay home from school. Never happened.”

“Mm.” Jon sits up slightly, giving a little more consideration to the idea of being awake and participating in conversation. “Me, too. I don’t know what I was expecting, I lived in Bournemouth.” Moving compromises his bubble of warmth, and he scowls in the general direction of outside and huddles back into the blankets. “I don’t know what I was  _ thinking, _ either.”

Martin tries not to laugh, but Jon knows him too well for it to go unnoticed. The scowl is directed at  _ him _ now, though there’s no real heat to it.

“What’s so bad about it? I think it’s pretty.”

Jon sticks a hand out of his cocoon solely for the effect of counting off on his fingers. “It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s pretty  _ now, _ but wait until it starts to melt and there’s half-frozen mud everywhere. The  _ roads, _ Martin. And did I mention how cold it is?”

He makes his case with such conviction Martin can’t help giggling the whole way through. “I’m pretty sure the snow is  _ because _ of the cold,” he points out, “not the other way around.”

Jon makes a rather rude gesture and pulls his hand back into the blankets. “I  _ know _ that,” he huffs, “I just don’t… uh,  _ care.” _

“Ah, is  _ that _ it.” Martin smiles fondly at the Jon-shaped lump beside him and starts gently manhandling it up and on top of him. Jon squirms a little, but he’s hardly going to protest being pulled into Martin’s lap, as long as the blankets come with him. “Come here, you grumpy man, at least  _ pretend _ you’d like to look at the snow with me.”

“Hmm, well, as long as it’s with  _ you _ I suppose I can put up with it for a while.” He readjusts, shifting so he can lean his head on Martin’s chest, and they sit in peaceful silence for a while.

It’s not obvious at first. Jon is trying to hide it, so of course it isn’t. Martin knows him, though, and he knows that when he catches Jon aggressively twisting the nearest fabric in his hands, it generally means there’s something a little more serious upsetting him than petty grievances about the weather. Right now, it looks like he’s going to tear a hole in the shirt he’s wearing if whatever it is doesn’t get addressed soon.

“…Jon?”

“I just don’t like it,” Jon mutters. He’s still staring ahead blankly, twisting the hem of his shirt, too deep in his worries to bother with articulating them any better than that.

Martin captures his hands, getting him to look up, and offers a smile when their eyes meet. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“The  _ snow,” _ he doesn’t quite snap. He watches Martin’s face warily, checking if he’s going to laugh. Martin doesn’t. It’s clear enough this is a real worry, not an overdramatic complaint like before.

“What about it?”

“It’s…” Jon bites his lip and looks back to the window. “I’m just concerned that, that it’s not going to  _ stop. _ We could be stuck here until it melts, or…”

“Or?”

He flushes. “I’m not finishing that, it’s- you’ll think I’m being even more ridiculous.”

“You’re not being ridiculous,” Martin assures him. “If it’s worrying you, I’ll listen.”

“It’s just, well- you don’t know it’s  _ normal _ snow,” he says rather defensively. “It could- it could be the Buried, or something. We don’t  _ know.” _

Martin hums, thinking for a moment. “You’re right, we don’t know.”

Jon is so surprised by his easy, calm agreement that he briefly forgets to be upset.

“So let’s say it is. What do we do about it then?”

“We- uh…” Jon has not actually thought about that yet. “I suppose… We could try to leave. Before we’re trapped in the house. But- I don’t think I’d risk it at this point, we aren’t close enough to make it anywhere else in this weather even if it  _ is _ normal. So…” He visibly struggles for any more helpful words and then gives up. “I don’t think there’s anything we  _ can _ do.”

“Okay.” Martin is strangely unbothered by this, too. “If it’s supernatural, we can’t do anything, so I guess that’s that. What if it’s a normal snowstorm? What are you worried about if it  _ is _ just normal snow?”

This list of problems is produced even more readily than the first. “We could  _ still _ be trapped in the house. It’s still too late to go anywhere else to wait it out, and I doubt anyone is going to plough the road out here.”

“That’s okay.” Martin’s response is just as immediate. “We don’t _ really _ need to go anywhere until we get low on supplies, and I made sure to stock up last time we were in town. So, we might get bored of staying in, but we won’t run out of food or anything.”

Jon nods slowly, considering. “We could lose power.”

“The stove and heating will still work without it, and we’ve got torches and plenty of extra batteries. It won’t be a problem.”

His last concern, he hesitates on, trying to hold it in. Eventually, though, he mumbles it into the blankets. “Until this stops… we can’t reach anyone else. No one can contact us. Are…  _ you _ going to be okay, if we’re stuck out here and- and isolated?”

Martin exhales slowly, the  _ oh _ on his lips not quite voiced. He hadn’t thought of that. He’s thinking about it  _ now, _ of course, and… yeah, it’s scary. But maybe the fact that it didn’t even occur to him until now is enough of an answer on its own.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he decides, and curls his body around Jon to chase away the anxiety, cheek smushed against the top of his head. “That’s what I’ve got you for, right? To make sure I don’t- go anywhere.”

Noticeably less tense, and letting his shirt remain intact for now, Jon smiles. He even leaves the safety of the blankets for a moment to twist around and lean up for a kiss. “Right, of course.” When he settles back down he’s pressed even closer than before, with a faint determination in the lines of his face. Martin knows he shouldn’t laugh- it really would be very bad, if he were to… you know. Start  _ fading _ again. It’s good that Jon is taking so seriously to his role in making sure that doesn’t happen. It’s also very  _ cute, _ is the thing, when he looks so serious about  _ cuddling in bed. _

Jon huffs quietly, and Martin realizes he’s been giving him the absolute sappiest look. “Do you have something to say?” he asks, faux-impatience coloring his tone.

“Hmm, yes.” Martin wants to kiss him again, but can’t reach his face properly, so he settles for just behind his ear instead. “I love you.”

He’s said this dozens of times by now, unable to resist blurting it out whenever he feels it now that he  _ can, _ and yet every time Jon reacts like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it. Whatever he intends to say in response dies out in a flustered squeak. It’s a minute of fumbling before he manages to say, “I- yes. Me too. Obviously.” Pulling himself together a little more, he adds, “What, ah, what prompted that?”

Martin shrugs. He doesn’t know why Jon would expect the reason to be any different than it always is: “It was true, so I said it.”

“Ah,” he says helplessly. Words continue to evade him, so he simply shifts to wrap his arms around Martin, who lets out a little hum of contentment.

“You know… we  _ are _ going to have to get out of bed at  _ some _ point.”

“Maybe you will,” Jon mumbles. “I’m not human, I can do whatever I want.”

Martin… doesn’t love when Jon says that kind of thing about himself, even if it’s technically true, but joking about it is better than working himself into a knot of anxiety over it, so he’ll let it pass without comment. Besides, he doesn’t want to disturb the nice, relaxed mood they’ve found their way back to. “If I get up,” he says instead, “you have to come with me, though. You can’t expect me to go all the way out to the kitchen by  _ myself, _ I’ll miss you too much.”

It is, upon reflection, a very good thing there’s no one else around to witness this. Neither of them would survive the embarrassment.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Jon sighs. “I suppose I’ll have to go with you, then. Just… let me sleep a little longer first.”

“Sure.”

If Jon had his way, Martin suspects he really would stay in bed the entire day. As it is, he’s probably going to have to drag him along whenever his body wakes up enough to start reminding him it needs food. Not yet, though. He pretends he’s just indulging Jon, but… he makes a very good, if silent, argument for staying where they are as long as possible, just by looking so contented and comfortable as he melts back into sleepy bonelessness against him.

The snow is still falling outside. It does not, upon careful observation, appear any more sinister than before. Martin decides that, regardless of Jon’s worries, he still rather likes it. In the background of his awareness the heating comes on, washing the room in a little more warmth. He lets himself sink into the mattress with a quiet exhale and tilts his head to the side. He’s not planning to go back to sleep himself. It’s too nice, just existing like this, to miss out on any more of it through unconsciousness than he needs to. Jon might be out again already, as far as he can tell- he’s been quiet for a while, at least, his breathing slow and even. That’s fine. For his part, Martin will be happy to wait, just watching the snow through the window until he wakes up.


End file.
